


Vega

by Enchantable



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Major Character Injury, One-Sided Attraction, Prison, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24760312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantable/pseuds/Enchantable
Summary: The two lovers were placed in the sky as stars. Yet while they were both in the heavens, they were not together.  The great Celestial River separated them.Yet each year, on the 7th night of the 7th moon, a bridge of magpies forms across the Celestial River. Though it would be for one night a year the two lovers are reunited as Altair dares to travel to his beloved.Yet, sometimes Altair’s annual trip across the Celestial River is too dangerous and he doesn’t quite make it.
Relationships: Alex Manes/Other(s), Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 29
Kudos: 114
Collections: Something Cosmic





	1. Family

Alex hands the black coffee to Flint, who takes it with a nod of thanks.

He glances at the monitors to let Flint have a second to drink it in peace before he turns to him. Technically outranks his brother even though Flint is older, it’s put a strain on things between them though neither likes to mention it. Still Alex needs his report before he takes over.

“All quiet,” Flint says, “they barely even moved.”

“EKG? Brainwaves? Pulses?”

Flint momentarily looks big brother annoyed but Alex has a job to do. He’s gotten that look from all the older male family members he outranks. And when he was deployed he got it from all the men who didn’t like a young, queer man outranking them. Alex always tells himself the same thing, if they were as better than him as they claimed to be, their rank would reflect that. Flint breaks their stare and hands him a tablet. Alex thumbs through the information.

“Like I said, all quiet,” Flint repeats, “the new sedation protocol is working.”

Alex nods. He’s not thrilled that keeping the world safe involves having scientists working for them semi against their will. Liz in particular was hard to convince but once her boyfriend and resurrected sister were in their custody, she agreed. Alex can’t fathom what it must be like to love one of them if you knew what they were. His own passing crush makes him feel sick even though he’s certainly moved past it. He nods and dismisses Flint before taking his seat at the console and bringing up the monitors.

Everyone is quiet.

Alex scrolls through the vitals that are coming in. There are physiological differences but they can more or less pass a visual inspection. It’s in their brainwaves that are radically different. Each emits a unique energy on top of the already strange one. They function at a much much higher level. Therefore they required constant vigilance and supervision, ideally also sedation but there are times when they need to be awake. The more they can learn about them the better they’ll be prepared for when the rest of them come.

It’s too soon before the time comes. It’s always too soon. But Alex is a soldier and he does what is needed. What the mission requires. So he meets Greg out in the hallway. His brother smiles at him briefly, Alex returns the gesture. Greg is Alex’s favorite brother, he always has been. He hates this part of every day but Greg makes it bearable.

“You sleep okay?” Greg asks.

“Did you?” Alex counters.

“Always,” Greg lies.

Alex shakes his head as they make their way down the cell banks. Neither is stupid enough to ask how the other is. Nothing’s been okay since their father died, though Alex is hard pressed to say anything was okay before that. Or anything’s been okay, well, ever. But they have a chance to make it better and he clings to that with everything in him. Greg undoes the latches and pulls out two trays. Alex picks up the third and ignores the shiver that edges his spine. Every time he does this it gets fractionally easier, though he’ll always have the guilt branded on him at least he can do his penance in a real way. That’s more than a lot of people get.

“Time for breakfast,” he says to the figure slumped in the corner.

Michael Guerin raises his head and looks at him for a long, silent moment. Alex feels his palms dampen but he ignores it and watches Michael’s gaze sharpen. It always takes him a minute to fight past the drugs. All of them are a threat in different ways but Michaels telekinesis has been deemed the hardest to control. Any protective measure he can turn against them. Max is neutralized by Liz being around and Isobel can gather information but has yet to use it. Michael is the unanchored one.

Alex wishes he didn’t know why Michael is more docile around him.

He was always vaguely aware of Michael staring at him. His eyes lingering. Maybe in another time or world he would have done something about it but in this one the idea of him being with anyone in high school is laughable. Alex is brave, he’s not stupid. Or not stupid enough to bring a boy back when he lived under his father’s roof. How Michael has kept a crush alive this long is baffling to him, but Michael seems perpetually stuck in the past. Still living out of his car in Roswell in old man Sander’s junkyard. It’s sad by any stretch of the imagination, it’s tragic given Michael’s brilliance.

“Mornin Alex,” he drawls.

“It’s Sergeant Manes,” he corrects.

“Yessir,” Michael says, lazily saluting him. The smile slips as he looks around, his gaze landing on the tray, “s’morning?”

“Eat,” Alex tells him, avoiding the question.

“Not hungry,” Michael retorts, rolling onto his side, “five more minutes,” he adds, going to hold up his fingers.

Alex bites back his frustration and the odd stab of fear in his gut. It’s around this time that it starts. Michael becomes aware of the chains on his wrist and the needles in his arms. He stiffens. Sometimes he pretends to not be aware and sometimes he doesn’t. Alex won’t know until he rolls over. When Michael pushes himself up, it’s tightly controlled. He’s a predator today and Alex feels himself relax. He knows what to do with Michael being a predator.

“Eat,” he repeats, “I won’t ask you again,” Michael hesitates and Alex reaches for his radio, giving Michael one final chance.

“Okay,” Michael says, “I’ll eat.”

Alex walks over with the tray and sets it down just past the perimeter laid out on the floor. Michael gives him a look of disgusted annoyance but pulls the tray over, picking up the sandwich. It’s another thing he had to do for survival. Alex wonders how across ten years he’s still watching Michael’s survival butt heads with his pride, even though they both know who will win in the end.

“I hope there’s drugs in here or your mayo’s going bad,” Michael mutters. He looks up at Alex for his reaction but Alex keeps his face impassive, “that was a joke. You remember those right?”

“You have ten minutes,” Alex informs him.

Michael rolls his eye and pulls the tray onto his lap, eating much more efficiently. What Alex has yet to puzzle out is why Michael will push his buttons but stop short of making him inflict actual punishment. He would like to say he’s good at it but he’s not the best. And Michael has no issue with making the best hurt him, he’s got no trouble with pain. It’s only pain when Alex inflicts it. If he didn’t know better he would say that Michael is trying to protect him in a very weird way. Alex doesn’t know why Michael thinks he’s weak enough to care about hurting him. But he isn’t. However he also isn’t a monster and he can’t fathom hurting him just to prove something. That’s not who he is.

“Done,” Michael says, dropping the tray and pushing it to the line before going back against the wall, “I got four minutes left,” he points out.

“Congratulations,” Alex says.

“Come on, four minutes, that’s enough for a conversation,” Michael says, “or a song,” he grins, “or both.”

“How about neither,” Alex says.

“Okay, how about a question?” Michael says, he almost tries to push himself up and thinks better of it. Something like fear creeps into his eyes but he swallows it down and looks at him, “you can refuse to answer.”

“No.”

“Come on, I’ll eat for the next person,” he says, “you could sleep in for once!”

Alex ignores the offer, he hasn’t slept in—well, ever. First because of his father, then because of his training, his service and now his job. Not to mention his injury. It demands he gets up early and do rehab or his whole day is compromised. He doesn’t know why the offer is tempting. Even for a moment. But he immediately chides himself and pushes the feeling away.

“Why would I believe you?”

“Because you know something’s wrong here,” Michael says.

The question was meant to be rhetorical but the sincerity in Michaels voice makes him pause. Michaels eyes go bright and desperate, even as they also unfocus. The mayo isn’t going bad, they both know that. Still it’s a surprise when Michael shoves himself up. Alex’s fingers are on his sidearm but he’s not jumpy enough to use it. When Greg sees something is wrong and comes over, Michael somehow manages to slam the door shut.

“Stand down!” Alex tells him as Greg reaches for his radio. Greg looks at him and Alex shakes his head. Greg’s hand lowers and Alex focuses on Michael, “open the door.”

Michael looks like he’s about to puke and pass out. Opening the door might be behind what he’s capable of. But the display of power means they don’t know the answer to that as well as they thought. Michael lifts his head, meets Alex’s eyes and shakes out a no.

“There are cameras,” Alex warns him.

“I disabled them,” Michael says.

Alex stares at him in disbelief. Michael looks over his shoulder at Greg. If Alex didn’t know better he’d say there was respect in Michael’s eyes, but they both know that’s not possible. Greg and Michael haven’t met before. He was already gone by the time he and Michael were in school together. Flint’s the only one Michael knows and there’s nothing but contempt in his eyes when it comes to him. He refocuses on Alex.

“You know this isn’t right,” he says.

“I know you’re a danger,” Alex corrects.

“No I’m not! None of us are!”

“You hurt people!” Alex snaps. Michael recoils, “I don’t know why you think I feel the same way about you, but you’re wrong. My crush on you was in high school, before I knew what you were.”

“So you don’t feel anything for me?” Michael demands.

“I feel bad for you,” Alex tells him, “maybe if you had moved past high school and left, you wouldn’t have been so easy to find.”

Michael cringes and seems to fold on himself. This is nothing new, Alex doesn’t know how Michael could have gotten it in his head otherwise. Why he thinks there’s something between them. There isn’t. There never has been. Maybe if he had been braver in high school, or dumber, but it would have ended anyway. Alex is many things but he’s not a traitor.

“I guess you’re really out of the shed, huh?” Michael says.

“What shed?” Alex questions.

Michael pauses and stares at him and then a horrible sound spills from his lips. Alex has to fight not to recoil. It’s like someone has told the funniest and most horrifying joke. Michael buries his fingers in his hair and stops to look at the back of his hand and then he’s making that sound all over again. There’s a tap on the window and Alex nods at Greg who shouts something into his radio. Alex pulls on his mask as yellow fog fills the cell and alarms blare. It doesn’t matter, the sound that Michael makes is burrowed into his ears. It stays there long after he slumps over and passes out.

Alex makes sure he’s out and secured before he leaves the cell. Greg is waiting and Alex knows he’s wasting his breath if he tells Greg to wait until after he’s been decontaminated. Instead he lets Greg walk with him to the showers. But he draws the line at the guilty fussing his brother is about to do.

“I’m fine,” he says.

“I should have called it in,” Greg tells him.

“I asked you not to,” Alex reminds him, “I thought I could de-escalate it,” he shakes his head.

“You’ve been good with him.”

“I let that get to me,” Alex says, fighting the self loathing that creeps up his throat, “I should know better by now,” he moves back from Greg’s hand, “I’m fine,” he says, “I also need to decontaminate.”

“Right.”

Alex nods and steps into the locker room to strip and shower. He knows Greg is going to be waiting for him. Sure enough when he comes out with the towel tight around his waist, Greg’s right there. He’s already gotten the supplies Alex needs to secure his leg. Alex has given up reminding him he’s self sufficient. If it’s something that helps the brother that’s done so much for him, he can swallow just a little pride. Just for him though.

“Hey, was there a shed?” He asks, “at dads house or something?”

“Yeah,” Greg says, “grandpa’s shed, dad used to keep tools in there,” he frowns, “It was gone the last time I went there. Why?”

“Do you remember what happened to it?”

“Dad must’ve torn it down.”

Alex nods, his heart still racing from the answer. He can vaguely remember the shed but only when he was a kid. He remembers thinking it was very cool, a small house with lots of defenses but no grown ups who could hurt him. For the life of him he can’t remember what happened to it. It seemed like a place that would be wonderful, but then again anywhere that wasn’t his dads house seemed wonderful back then. Nothing in his adult life so far has disproven that.

“I remember wanting to sleep in it,” Alex admits.

“Maybe you told dad that,” Greg says.

“Probably,” Alex agrees, “no wonder he tore it down,” he sighs, “I think he made me help.”

“That sounds about right,” Greg says. His hand rests on Alex’s shoulder in a silent gesture of comfort that Alex acknowledges with a nod, “thank god you don’t have to go back there.”

“Amen to that,” Alex agrees.

Fully dressed he resumes his post and checks in on the cameras being fixed. Michael’s sedation is even higher after the shit he pulled. Thankfully no one treats Alex any differently, he’s proven himself to them. Also he outranks them. Still some part of him is grateful that Greg has this shift with him, even though Alex still wishes that he didn’t take so much comfort from his brothers presence.

“Knock knock.”

Alex looks over at Greg burying himself in a very non essential read out and spares him a glare before turning around. The handsome man leaning against the doorway makes his heart jump, like it always does. Though Forrest is here on official business, Alex isn’t sure if it’s time sensitive official or if it’s Greg called him official.

“Hey,” Alex says, “what are you doing here?”

“I just came to see if you had time to join me for lunch,”. Forrest says.

“Am I giving my statement before or after?” Alex asks.

“After or during. I’d never take your statement on an empty stomach. I’m not a monster.”

“We’re standing in a prison for aliens,” Alex points out.

“I’m not one of those either.”

Alex shakes his head. He knows Greg is watching them but when he turns his brother is buried in the binder again. Alex looks at the read outs as Forrest comes over to double check his findings. He sighs.

“I really thought he was more under control.”

“So did we,” Alex agrees.

“We’ll re-evaluate his containment,” Forrest says.

Alex doesn’t know why he’s relieved and annoyed. Why he doesn’t want the containment to change. Probably because he can prove himself, or he thought he could. Redemption seems tied to dealing with Michael. He’s relieved because he knows the cost of being short sighted. It would be easy for them to kill Michael for his actions and Alex knows that would be a mistake. It would make them no better than his fool of a father, putting emotions over logic.

“Let’s go before it gets too late,” Alex says.

“You worried about feeding him?” Forrest asks.

“No, of course not,” Alex lies seamlessly, barely even realizing it’s a lie, “like you said we have to re-evaluate. I just don’t want Greg to deal with feeding the other two in case they make this a coordinated effort.”

Forrest softens a bit. His family history is also very deeply troubled, but he understands some bonds. Like the one Alex has with Greg. Maybe in another universe they all could understand the bond the aliens have together. Though they aren’t family in that way, the same blood doesn’t run through their veins. He and Forrest step out of the base and into the sunlight. Alex breathes in.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Alex says.

“It’s okay if you aren’t,” Forrest tells him, “speaking as your boyfriend and not your boss here.”

Alex smirks.

“When did you become my boss?”

“Okay your paramilitary overseer,” Forrest says, “it’s okay if you’re not. Did he say anything to you in there?”

Alex thinks about the things Michael says. He says he disabled the cameras but Alex isn’t sure if there were backups. He’s not sure if this is a different kind of test. He doesn’t envy Forrest’s position. He takes his hand.

“Just the usual,” Alex says, “nothing important. The drugs were already taking effect.”

Forrest nods and smiles.

Alex wonders why he feels relieved.

“Sorry I know we said no statements on an empty stomach,” he jogs over to his car and pulls out bags of takeout.

“You’re my favorite person,” Alex tells him.

Forrest grins and Alex thinks about the ring he’s got hidden at home. The simple blue black band is so perfectly Forrest it makes his heart skip just thinking about proposing. He hasn’t even told Greg yet. He can’t wait to do that too.

Most of all, he can’t wait to make Forrest family.


	2. Transformation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So non graphic but there are mentions of force feeding and torture

Michael doesn’t seem surprised to see him.

Alex wishes the narrowing of his eyes wasn’t so unsettling. The new cocktail they have him on has him in a foggy state all of the time. He’s leveled out, more or less. Though they’ve been trying other ways, Michael says that Alex bringing him food is the only way he’ll eat. He’s shackled on shorter chains. There’s nothing on the tray that requires utensils. Alex puts it down at the line.

“If you try anything the next step is me force feeding you,” he tells him.

“Why isn’t that happening now?”

“Your species might not exist but you passed well enough as people,” he says.

“So you want to treat us like regular prisoners,” Michael says. Alex doesn’t respond. It’s a hollow promise and they both know that. The drugs, the chains, even the cells themselves rob them of the luxury of that lie, “I can’t reach,” Michael says. Alex frowns, “I can’t reach the tray,” he elaborates and rolls his eyes, “they gotta stop whatever they’re giving you.”

Alex ignores the jab and picks up the tray.

“Hands against the wall,” he tells him. Michael obeys and he puts the tray down on his lap, “you have five minutes.”

Michael still eats like someone who might have their for taken away at any second. When they were kids it was sad, though Alex couldn’t say he did’t know what that felt like. Food depravation was a Jesse Manes speciality in survival drills. Or if he caught Alex doing anything he deemed too gay. Alex is past that. Michael isn’t, though in this case Alex can’t blame that on his ability to live in the past. Once Michael is done with the sandwich he looks up at him and puts his hands against the wall.

“You don’t care?” Michael asks him quietly when Alex comes for the tray. Alex glares and steps back, looking at him pointedly. Michael rolls his eyes and opens his hands in a universal show of surrender, “sorry.”

Alex gives him a sharp look to hide his surprise at Michael’s apology. He picks the tray up off Michael’s lap and the alien slumps forward as much as his chains will allow. For the first time he looks defeated. This is what they’ve been going for, Alex isn’t sure why it looks so wrong. Why it sets the alarm bells off in his head. Defeated means that Michael will stop fighting them, it means that they can get what they need without risking any men. Alex steps back and gets his radio.

“Can you send R&D up here to check Guerin?” He says.

“His read outs are normal,” Flint replies. Alex glares up at the camera.   
“That wasn’t a request.”

He doesn’t need to be there to see Flint rolling his eyes. Then again he doesn’t need to be there to see Flint radioing for R&D either. Michael’s head rises slightly and he looks at Alex, his eyes struggling to focus. The usual bravado and sarcasm he has is absent. He looks small. Not in a physical way but in a way that Alex understands all too well. Michael’s larger than life in his memories, always struggling to make himself as unnoticeable as possible with his bright wardrobe and his loud mouth. Alex always fought to take up as much space as he could. Being invisible came far more naturally to him.

“Out of my way,” Liz snaps as the guards bring her in, “I need my hands free!” They undo her restraints, “Michael,” she breathes and runs over to him, ignoring every protocol. Alex shakes his head when the guards move to restrain her, “Mikey look at me,” she says, tipping his head back and shining a light in his eyes.

“Liz?” He focuses on her, “are we in California?”

“Possibly,” she says, “keep your eyes open for me,” she looks over at the men, “I need my bag.”

Alex takes the bag, puts it on the ground and slides it to her. Liz hates him for keeping her boyfriend imprisoned and holding her against her will, but even he’s not prepared for the look she gives him. What he’s less prepared for is when she turns back to Michael, he shakes his head slightly and she looks almost apologetic. She refocuses on the task at hand and moves Michael onto his side. Or tries to, he hisses in protest and before anyone can stop her she shoves his shirt up. Alex isn’t prepared for the dark bruises that mar his skin. Not the bruises from their experiments, these are different.

“I need the footage from the AB cellblock for the past 72 hours,” he says.

“Don’t pretend you care!” Liz snaps, catching him off guard yet again, “Does it matter where the bruises come from?” Her eyes are bright and angry but just as determined as he remembers, “you’re all monsters—“

“Liz,” Michael starts.  
“No!” She turns to Alex, “you know I’m right. You know this is wrong.”

She opens her mouth to continue but Michael is sick all over the floor. The tension breaks as Liz whips around and grabs the needle she brought, sticking it into his flank and injecting him. Michael’s heaving stops and he remains there, doubled over and taking long, unsteady pulls of air. Alex checks the read outs. It’s odd but there’s none of the usual spikes they get when the aliens are having their sedation adjusted or when they react badly to it. Everything is perfectly steady. He watches Liz get Michael back seated properly. When she shines the light in his eyes he winces immediately.

“Take her back,” Alex says.

They haul her up and shackle her. It hurts but she ignores the pain because that’s what Liz has done for as long as Alex has known her. It’s only because he’s close that he sees the very clear look Michael gives her. He follows it back to Liz who looks at him and immediately starts struggling against the guards. Large fake tears start rolling down her eyes.

“You’re hurting me!”

The men are good at some things, they aren’t good at this.

“She’s faking it,” Alex tells them. The tears stop instantly, “I didn’t realize you could still cry on command.”

“I didn’t realize you were trying to become your father,” she spits back at him.

Alex looks at her coldly and nods to the guards who pull her away. He could order worse punishment for her, but if he got upset over comparisons to his father he would punish everyone constantly. It stings coming from Liz but he dismisses it as a passing fondness he has for a friend. Or someone who was his friend. Now she’s just a girl he misjudged, the same as everyone else he knows in this prison. He approaches Michael who looks up at him, the defiance back in his eyes.

“I’ll be back to force feed you lunch,” Alex informs him.

“What? Why?” Michael demands, panic on his face.

“You used to brag about making yourself vomit at will,” Alex tells him.

“Oh that you remember!” Michael snaps, “fucking—,” he leans his head back against the wall, “that’s just fucking great.”

Alex ignores him and doesn’t press for more questions. There’s no point. The aliens and their allies will say anything. It’s just unfortunate that they all knew each other before he knew they were enemies. They know more about him than he wishes they did, but then again Alex is used to working in the world of computers. It’s not the first time an enemy has found out more about him than he wanted them to. Besides none of them are the same as they were in high school. He just seems to be the only one acknowledging it.

“Maybe now you can stop trying to defend me,” Alex tells him cooly. Michael’s eye cracks open and to Alex’s surprise, he blushes, “it should be clear by now I don’t need you to do that.”

“You never did,” Michael says. The affection in his voice is the first thing that’s cut through Alex’s defenses, “not that that’s ever stopped me from trying.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snaps. Immediately he regrets showing that this had any effect on him. Sternly he brings himself back under control like his father taught him, “we barely said two words to each other in high school.”

“Whatever they’re giving you is making you stupid,” Michael says. Alex looks at him impassively. Michael stares at him for a moment and then runs his tongue over his bottom lip, “you try to find the shed?” Something shows on Alex’s face because Michael’s gaze gets almost hungry, “oh you did, didn’t you?”

“My father made me tear that shed down after I said I wanted to sleep in it,” Alex says. Michael snorts and shakes his head, “is that funny to you?”

“You sure about that?” Michael asks, “or did you tell yourself that because it makes sense?” Something in Michael’s gaze gets predatory, “how do I know about the shed?”

“You probably overheard me saying something at school—“

“We both know you didn’t talk about the fucked up shit your dad did in school,” Michael snarls.

Alex presses his lips together. Michael is clearly trying to appeal to his better nature head of being force fed. He’s being a coward. Alex doesn’t know why that curls through him like disappointment. Being a coward is what Michael is good at. It’s why he’s stayed in high school, in Roswell. It’s why they went to high school together and Michael lied about his species the entire time. It’s even what landed him in this fucking cell. Alex doesn’t know why it matters that Michael is trying to get out of what comes next. Why he’s disappointed he was wrong and Michael wasn’t trying to protect him at all.

“Then your ‘sister’ read my mind,” Alex says, “we both know how Isobel loved to gossip,” his fingers find his radio as he forces himself to look at the horror on Michael’s face, “I need the feeding cart in Guerin’s cell,” he says, “the clean up crew should come by afterwards.”

Michael turns his head away but Alex still sees the tears. Michael sniffles and the sound cuts, but Alex is no stranger to pain. Michael shakes his head and turns around to glare at Alex.

“Hey did you know your great uncle was in love with my mom?”

Michael spits insults even as he’s strapped into the chair. Even as Alex pushes the tube up his nose and puts the solution down. Alex has never quite heard someone gag and curse at the same time but Michael manages it. He gets the feeling Michael is very good at fighting his instincts. While he is in the chair Alex watches as the clean up crew turns the cell over so it’s spotless. Alex doesn’t believe in doing double the work so he puts a bin under Michael when he removes the tube. He leaves him sitting there doubled over.

“If you make yourself vomit we’ll have to do it again,” Alex says.  
“I got it!” Michael snarls at him.

Alex undoes the straps and transfers him back to his shackled position. He’s used to thinking of Michael as pathetic shackled to the wall and drugged, but at the moment pathetic is the last thing he’d use to describe him. Michael heaves deep gasps of air and stares up at him through sweat-slicked hair. He looks like he is going to kill someone if given the slightest opportunity. To his everlasting shame, Alex finds himself moderately intrigued. Michael bares his teeth and looks up at him.

“Liz was wrong,” he snaps, “you don’t look like your father. He would have enjoyed this,” he raises himself up as much as he can, “you hate every minute of it.”

“You’re wrong,” Alex tells him cooly.

“You wanted to be a musician.”

“I’m not in high school anymore, Guerin,” he says, “I want to keep people safe.”

“You don’t have to keep them safe from us!” Michael objects, “we—“

“Come in peace?” Alex finishes, raising his eyebrows, “you murdered my father in cold blood.”

“He deserved it, he was trying to kill you!”

“Maybe,” Alex says, “but you took away any chance he had to change that.”

Michael looks away breathing hard. Alex stands there and looks at him. He’s aware that in all likelihood Michael will be killed for this. Or at the very least that he will be taken away again for an undetermined amount of time. Michael seems to know the same thing. He’s smart enough and the drugs are cleared enough that he’s got to know it. Michael seems to be having some kind of struggle and Alex doesn’t know if he wants to see where he winds up. Another stupid thing and he doesn’t think that anyone can save Michael.

“I didn’t kill him,” Michael says finally, “I wanted to but I didn’t because you got it in your head he was a good person somewhere deep down,” he takes an unsteady breath, “and despite all the fucked up shit he did, I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Goodbye, Guerin,” he says.

“I didn’t want to hurt you because I loved you!” Michael yells after him.

Alex waits for the disgust to roll through him but it’s absent. He should be out of the cell. Michael has done more than enough to make this difficult. Instead he finds himself turning around. He says it’s because of how ridiculous the statement is. How desperate the ploy is. A man he hasn’t spoken to in a decade making some stupid declaration to save his own hide. Alex almost sneers but he doesn’t want to give Michael the satisfaction. Instead he offers him a cool smile which he knows paints a sharp contrast to the desperation that’s coming off Michael in waves.

“Then I’m sorry to tell you I have a boyfriend waiting for me.”

Michael turns away which is a sharp contrast to the way he’s been acting around Alex. Alex knows emotional pain is just as dangerous as physical pain, but it’s still a surprise to see just how much those words seem to hurt Michael. Alex forces himself to look and take in the heap that is Michael Guerin. He figures the odd melancholy is just the feeling of knowing that this will probably be the last time he sees him. It wasn’t something he thought about at graduation. Actually Michael isn’t someone he’s really thought about at all. Which strikes him as odd the more he thinks about it. Your first crush is supposed to cross your mind every now and again. But he can’t say he’s ever thought about him that he can remember.   
He’s not prepared for the song that Michael hums.

Music isn’t a part of his life anymore except when Forrest is around. The rest of the time it’s mostly talk radio or listening to reports. Music has always been a forbidden thing and as much as he wanted to fight for it as a teenager, he outgrew it. Like he outgrew so many things. The song that Michael hums is somehow impossibly familiar and completely foreign. Alex knows it’s not something he’s heard before, it’s completely different from the kind of songs that Forrest likes. He’s got good memory, he would know the song if he had heard it before. And yet when Michael hums it, he knows it like it’s in his bones. Like he wrote the words from a place in his soul that no-one knows. Not even Forrest. Somewhere he doesn’t know how to reach. When Michael looks at him, there’s a victory in his eyes.

“Goodbye, Guerin,” he says, refusing to let him win.

He gets the distinct impression Michael already knows.

“Catch you later, Alex.”

He wants to say that Michael doesn’t know he’s probably going to be taken away, but Michael isn’t stupid. Which means he’s expecting Alex to be stupid. Which Alex absolutely isn’t. He finishes his shift in a foul mood and it lingers as he goes home. No matter how much he tells himself it’s the failure. He comes home to a note on the fridge that tells him Forrest had to go back to the office and that he picked up Alex’s prescription. Alex knows that’s probably code for being the one to take Michael away. Alex wishes he was there so he could ask about the song. He silences the alarm on his watch and goes into the bathroom and finds the new pill bottle.

they gotta stop whatever they’re giving you.

Alex frowns at the pills.

It’s completely ridiculous and he dismisses the sound of Michael’s voice. But the sound of him humming pushes through his mental ear plugging. Alex thinks of the engagement ring and thinks of Forrest and thinks of Michael. His phone is in his hand before he realizes it.

“Hi,” he says, “I need an emergency refill on my prescription. My boyfriend picked it up but he got called away unexpectedly.“

He barely remembers driving to the pharmacy or getting the bottle with two pills in it. He remembers the pharmacist smiling at him. Because his boyfriend did a nice thing and Alex is apparently shaping up to be the kind of partner his father was. So maybe Liz wasn’t off. Still he takes the bag and goes back to his car. He drives to a quiet street and pulls over, taking out his knife. The casing is the same, the contents even look the same. He dips his finger into the pharmacist’s pills and winces at the bitter taste. He dips it into the pills Forrest got him and——

Alex looks around and wonders how he got in the car. Why there’s two bottles of pills cut open in front of him. The last thing he remembers is standing in his bathroom looking at a pill bottle. His mind catches up and he has to fight not to throw the bottles away.

Michael was right.

He stares ahead, wondering what else he could possibly be right about.

Wondering if it’s already too late to find out.


	3. Teamwork

He’s halfway through disrupting the last microphone when Michael stirs.

He’s not supposed to be awake but that’s easy enough to correct chemically. Easier actually than keeping him at his base levels. Alex isn’t a rash person except when his life is on the line. He has survival instincts that even his father was proud of. Discovering someone has been tampering with his meds is not something Alex has any intention of playing dumb around. Especially not with the life of the person who told him about it on the line. He turns as Michael opens his eyes and rubs them without thinking. He freezes as he realizes he’s not supposed to be able to do that. He doesn’t even seem to notice Alex as he pulls his wrists against his chest and curls over them like they hurt.

“We don’t have long,” Alex tells him.

Michael jumps and turns, searching through the darkness for Alex. His eyes find him chillingly easily, though Alex clings to the notion that it’s luck and not that Michael knows where to look for him. Their eyes hold for a moment and Alex watches him relax when he spots him, even as the glare doesn’t slip off his face. He can’t think if he’s always relaxed physically around him, that’s not something he’s ever looked out for. He knows Michael constantly is finding ways to get them alone together and then making sure it’s unlikely they ever will be, but he blames that on Michael’s own self sabotaging tendencies.

“Jesus, when did you become Batman?”

“I think you could answer that better than I could.”

Michael gives something between a grin and a grimace.

“You find the shed?” He asks.

“The pills,” Alex says. Michael looks confused, “you said I should stop taking whatever they were giving me,” he reminds him, watching Michael’s mind catch up, “someone usually picks up my prescriptions.”

Michael immediately sours and if Alex didn’t know better he’d say he was pouting. Actually as he looks he realizes Michael is pouting, no matter what he thinks he knows to be true about the alien. Alex has put Forrest into a box in his head to look at later. He can’t say if their entire relationship is built on a lie, he also can’t say he’s okay with any explanation for his meds. He loves Forrest. But he’s not dumb enough to think that loving someone means you’ll never mistreat them. That lie was taken from him a long time ago, if it was ever his to begin with.

“You trust him that much, huh?” Michael says.

“We aren’t talking about him,” Alex cuts him off. The same way Michael seems to instinctively relax around him, Alex finds himself tense at the idea of talking about his love life with him, “how did you know?”

“Why don’t you think I read your mind?” Michael asks.

“I know you didn’t,” Alex says, “you would have gotten the codes to all the doors and escaped.”

“Maybe I was just waiting for you to do it for me,” Michael points out.

“I’m not helping you escape,” Alex says.

“Oh you’re not?” Michael says, “I thought you said goodbye earlier.”

The hungry look is in his eyes, he’s waiting for Alex’s answer. The usual sarcasm is there but it’s eclipsed by Michael’s curiosity. Or maybe he’s just ready to get the hell out of here. Alex wishes that he could chalk it up to just that, but give Michael’s insistence on them having as many interactions as possible he knows he’s can’t bullshit himself into thinking that anymore. Alex has always tried not to lie to himself, to see the world for what it really is and not what he wants it to be. It’s a talent that’s kept him alive. Someone has taken that from him and it’s a violation. A violation that he fell for, but a violation all the same.

“What are they giving me?” Alex asks.

“I don’t know,” Michael says, “some kind of memory drug. They’ve used it on people before,” he says, “but it was in their spine. The pills are new. You don’t seem to get the same headaches.”

“Are they giving it to my brothers?”

“Probably,” Michael says, “or they’ve got something else on them and they’re doing this to keep you safe.”

The thought of Greg lying makes Alex sick. Flint he can see, for noble reasons and because living under their father’s roof necessitated the ability to lie. Especially to yourself. But Greg’s been out of the house for so long, he’s had a chance to recover. Flint’s wounds are still raw but they’re starting to scab. Alex doesn’t linger on how he’s still bleeding. It seems ridiculous that a dead person can have so much power over them, but Alex knows that when the dead man is his father that’s inevitable.

“Greg wouldn’t lie to me,” he says firmly. Michael softens.

“I know,” Michael agrees.

“So they’re drugging him too.”

“Okay,” Michael says, “they’re drugging him too.” Alex stares at him and Michael sighs loudly, “Greg’s a good guy, I’m willing to bet they’re drugging him too.”

“How?”  
“How what?”“How do you know he’s a good guy?” Alex asks, “he and Flint have had the same amount of interaction with you. You’ve barely spoken to either of them,” Michael looks away, “You hated Flint in high school and you never met Greg,” he adds.

Michael suddenly finds the floor very interesting. Alex feels the frustration bubbling in his gut. All the answers, or most of them, seem to be in Michael’s head and yet for months he’s said nothing. To be fair there have been weeks where he’s been so drugged he hasn’t said anything really. But the weeks where he has been able to, he hasn’t. He’s tried to get them alone and the few times he’s succeeded it’s all gone to shit. Usually because of something he does. It’s an impressive level of self sabotage, one that Alex wishes he didn’t keep paying the price for.

“You can’t ask me that,” Michael says finally, “look maybe you haven’t gotten the headaches before but you might now. You said you aren’t here to break me out but we both know that time’s running out—“

“Because of the latest shit you pulled!” Alex cuts in, exasperated, “if this was so important why did you put me in this is position?”

Michael softens again, like Alex’s exasperation is something familiar he’s missed. Alex knows his mask around Michael needs work, Michael knows it too. But the exasperated feeling definitely comes up more around this alien than anyone else. It always has. Apparently Michael is the most exasperating person on two worlds for him. Unfortunately he’s also right, they are running out of time. Not in the lifelong sense but in the actual every minute counts sense. It’s too late to hope that Michael can change his behavior, Alex knows that his bosses won’t stand for it. And if they do, the days of him being able to be alone with Michael are done since he’s proven he’s unable to control him.

“Because I’m an idiot?” Michael offers.  
“Not good enough,” Alex snaps.

Michael hangs his head briefly. Alex doesn’t know what to feel towards him or why he looks so exhausted all of a sudden. This is the least drugged he’s been since he got here. And his body heals at a higher rate. It’s instinctive to want to yell at Michael to get back down when he moves to the edge of the bed, but Alex resists the urge. Michael is unsteady as he gets to his feet, but he finds something resembling his balance. He glances at Alex’s hip and Alex forces his hands to stay where they are, not reach for his sidearm. He doesn’t have his radio but the easiest way to get help would really be to scream. He has no intention of doing that either.

“I didn’t write that song,” he says, “the one you remember? That wasn’t me. You wrote it. That’s how you know it so well,” he hesitates for a moment before pushing onwards, “you wrote it about us.”

“That’s impossible,” Alex snaps.

“You can’t seriously be standing here telling an alien who just told you your boss is giving you mind erasing drugs that you writing a song is impossible, Alex,” Michael says.

The way he says his name is what catches Alex off guard. His tone is equal parts exasperated and affection, like he can’t decide whether to hug him or wring his neck. He sounds like a much higher version of what Alex feels. When it comes to affection at least. The exasperation seems about the same for both of them. It’s strange though, to hear his name said like that by someone he can’t remember. Someone he hasn’t spoken to since high school. Someone he doesn’t feel anything like that towards, but who clearly feels that way about him.

“I am,” Alex says finally. Michael rolls his eyes, “if I was going to write a song about anyone it would be the man I want to marry.”

Michael stares at him, his face going almost unreadable. Alex turns away before he can see the emotions on his face. It doesn’t take a genius to see the way Michael looks like the air has been sucked out from the room. He’s not sure he can stand to see him look like Alex broke his heart. Alex doesn’t know why that’s unwatchable to him but he looks away and allows himself the lie that he needs to make sure they are still alone and there’s no sign people have figured out what’s going on.

“You’re going to marry him?” He says.

“I’m going to ask,” Alex corrects.

“But he’s using you,” Michael protests, “you know he’s drugging you—you can’t seriously want to marry him.”

“I don’t know the whole story,” Alex says, “besides, if what you’re saying is true and we were together, you were lying about your species and I was still writing you songs.”

“I didn’t—“ Alex looks over but Michael stops and huffs, “forget it,” he clenches his jaw, “I’m not leaving without everyone else.”

“This isn’t a prison break,” Alex reminds him.

“I’m just saying.”

“You haven’t told me anything that would make me want to break you out,” Alex says. Michael looks down, “I’ve been torturing you for months. Did you think that telling me I wrote you a song and my boyfriend is drugging me was going to make me betray everyone?” Michael doesn’t look up but gives the most minuscule shrug, “my brothers work here. You are not the only one with family here,” he rolls his eyes at himself, “which is a moot point because this is not happening.”

“You keep repeating that it might be true,” Michael say, “but I don’t think we have time for you to convince yourself.”

Alex hears the boots on the ground. He thinks he can hear the sound of Forrest’s shoes but he doesn’t know that for sure. Everything he’s loyal to is walking towards him, but the only thing he feels is dread. There isn’t enough information to make a decision here. Even though there shouldn’t even be a decision to be made. There isn’t a decision to be made. He’s already made it. Whatever passing loyalty and intrigue he has with the alien behind him, it’s irrelevant. He’s not stupid enough to fall for it. His father can hate him from the grave for being gay, but he doesn’t need to hate him for being a traitor as well. His mind is made up as he reaches for his sidearm and turns around to tell Michael to get back on the bed so he can chain him up and things can go back to how they were a day ago.

“Look I need a couple of days,” Michael says.

“Get on the bed.”

“Give me a few days and if you don’t remember me or believe me, I’ll come back here willingly,” Michael says. Alex doesn’t respond, “you know that something’s wrong here or you would have shot me.”

“Something being wrong here doesn’t mean I trust you,” Alex says.

“I’m not asking you to trust me, I’m asking you to give me a chance.”

“Why would I do that?” Alex asks.  
“Because you’re doing it right now,” Michael says. He looks at him, “now or never, Alex.”

Later Alex will say he nodded because he was trying to lull Michael into a false sense of security. Or give a man about to die his peace. What he’s not expecting is the grin that comes across Michael’s face. Or that in the next second, some invisible force throws him against Michael’s chest and his own gun is suddenly pushed against his temple. The next second they aren’t alone and everything fucking stops.

“Hold your weapons!” Greg says, “let him go.”

“My second favorite Manes,” Michael says, “sorry about this but I have to borrow your brother,” he glances at the men and suddenly they are all in the cell. Michael sidesteps them and steps out with Alex, taking care to make it look more natural, “I’ll bring him back,” he says to Greg and closes the door.

Michael pulls him over to the other cells and opens them. Max and Isobel are still drugged and bleary eyed and Michael looks infuriated and opens the door, grabbing Greg and dragging him out and over to the other cells. It’s nauseating to see Greg pupetted to look like he’s walking. But it’s better than some of the things that could be happening. Michael grabs his radio and puts it to Alex’s mouth. Then he raises the gun and points it at Greg.

“Tell them to bring Liz up here,” he says.

“Send Liz up with Rosa,” he says.

“Sorry about this too,” Michael says and Greg goes back in the cell. Alex looks over at him and Michael returns the look, “he’s going to be fine,” he says.

“Michael—“ Liz inhales sharply.

“Hi, great to see you, nice jammies, can you fix them?”

Liz gives him a glare and runs into Max’s cell while Rosa heads for Isobel’s. Soon they are all blinking and coming back around, or around enough that things aren’t a shock. Actually they all just seem mildly concerned that Michael has him there against his will, like they are all expecting him to be a part of this rescue mission. He gets Michael’s attention and glares until Michael sighs and the vice on his jaw loosens.  
“Why are they surprised you have me as a hostage?” Alex demands, “Why—“ the vice is back.

“I will explain. I’ll explain everything,” he looks at them, “come on, we gotta go. Everyone else is locked in my cell.”

He drags Alex out. Between Alex’s unwilling biometrics and Michael’s telekinesis and Isobel’s mind tricks they make their way out with shocking ease. Alex could walk the corridors in his sleep and find his way, but it’s unnerving that Michael seems to be able to do it as well. The aliens coordinate and the sisters follow. Only Liz seems surprised when at the door they all split up.

“Wait, where—“

“I need a few days with Alex,” Michael says, “you guys are going to Maria’s. Isobel can find her,” he softens, “it’s better if you don’t know.”

“Be careful!” Max tells him.

“Hypocrite much?” Michael calls back, “but I will.”

He gets Alex into the car and slides into the passenger seat. Michael grips the steering wheel and closes his eyes. There’s the sound of wires severing and several things dropping out of the car as Michael disables all the tracking gear. He looks regretfully at Alex and focuses on his leg. Panic and disappointment set off fireworks in Alex’s chest as the tracking chips fall out of his pant legs and then sail out the window with the rest of it. Michael puts the car in drive and takes off down the road. They drive in silence for almost an hour, putting as much distance between them as he can. Finally he pulls over and looks at Alex.

“I know you’re pissed off,” he says, “but you did consent.”

Alex finds he can move and wrenches the door open and falls forward gasping. He braces his forearms on his knees and tries to breathe. Michael barely gets the door open before he’s heaving, this time entirely not on purpose. Power over-exertion. Alex remembers that can happen. He also remembers Michael making himself throw up as Liz was yelling that what he was doing was wrong. That he should know it. He remembers Michael warning him that remembering past the drugs would give someone crippling migraines.

Michael was trying to protect him.

Alex pushes himself up and looks over at the alien. Thankfully there’s nothing in his stomach to leave behind on the dirt. Not that he expects to be tracked after Michael removed everything. He pushes himself to his feet and walks over to the drivers side of the car. Michael raises his head. He’s pale and sweaty, like what he’s just done has taken everything out of him. Which, Alex reasons, it probably has. He doesn’t feel sympathy for him, but there’s a slight respect growing in his chest. Which Alex supposes is better than what he could feel, though having respect for someone who just kidnapped him and threw his brother in a cell isn’t exactly what Alex wants to feel.

“I’ll drive,” he says.

Michael nods and pushes himself backwards onto the passenger seat. He leans out and pulls the door shut. Alex closes his own door and puts the car in drive.

“Where am I going?” He asks.

“Uh—“ Michael looks at him sheepishly. Alex feels everything switch back to exasperation, “Back to Roswell—“

“No,” Alex cuts in, “they’ll be looking for us there,” he sighs, knowing there’s one answer and it isn’t one he particularly likes, “I know somewhere we can go.”

“You do?”

“Trust me,” Alex says.

Michael gives him a look that makes chills ago down his spine but then he nods.

Neither of them talk for the rest of the drive.


	4. War

Alex finds the house easily enough.

Michael looks around and focuses on him as Alex parks. Alex looks at the single story house. It’s smaller than his father’s, it’s not as well made, but it looks more like a home than his ever did. It has the potential to be a home at least. Alex has long since learned not to trust the facade’s of successful suburban houses. He doesn’t want to go in. He swore he was never going in. He feels Michael’s gaze on him and focuses instead on the exasperation he feels towards the alien in his front seat.

“What?” He questions.

“I didn’t know we were coming here,” Michael says guiltily.

Alarm bells go off in Alex’s head. Alex doesn’t talk about his mom. He doesn’t talk about this part of him anymore than he talks about his father. But his father was a poorly kept secret. His mother has always been a very good one. No-one knows about this, just that she left. But Michael seems to know. It’s like the shed. There are things from his past that are not adding up the way that Michael is telling him. Chalking it up to memory loss drugs seems too convenient. It stinks of him walking into a trap. Alex has walked into enough of those to recognize one. Or at least the warning signs of one. He doesn’t know why he instinctively feels like Michael isn’t laying a trap out.

“Did I tell you about my mother or did you find out in a different way?” He questions. Michael winces, “this is like that shed,” Michael actually recoils, “that shed was gone before we met. It hasn’t magically reappeared.”

“Okay listen the shed is—“ Michael blows his curls out of his eyes, “it’s shitty timing. Before all of this we were trying to let the past go.”

“So you expect me to believe that we conveniently destroyed the evidence of what you’re saying,” Alex says slowly. Michael sighs and folds his arms, “you realize how that sounds don’t you?”  
“Yes, Alex, I realize how it sounds,” Michael says, throwing his hands up, “believe me, that’s not the only thing I’m going to tell you that I don’t have evidence for.”

“So how am I supposed to believe you?” Alex questions.

“I haven’t figured that out yet!”

Alex takes a deep breath and looks up. He’s not sure if he’s more annoyed at the person sitting next to him or the woman standing in front of him. If she’s surprised she doesn’t show it. Actually he can tell instantly that she’s relieved and maybe vaguely annoyed. It’s like she’s been expecting them but she wishes that they would have called first. If Alex didn’t need a place to hide that was at least unlikely to result in bodily harm, he would say that she had lost the right to look at him that way. But he’s smarter than his emotions, he knows how to keep his eye on his goals. It is a big reason why the three of them are all still alive. Alex ignores Michael opening his mouth and steps out of the car.

“Dad’s dead, Greg and Flint are fine and there’s a good chance the government is drugging me,” he says, “we need a safe place to crash for a few days.”

“Hello to you too,” Mindy says and glances over at Michael who scrambles out of the car.

Alex doesn’t know if Michael and his mother have met. Given everyone else’s reaction to meeting Michael, he has a feeling that they haven’t. But Michael knows about this complicated part of Alex’s life. Alex still feels exposed standing there with his mother in front of him and Michael to the side of him. He’s too vulnerable. But one vulnerability at a time. He focuses on the more immediate issue.

“Can we crash here?” Alex asks.

“Yes,” Mindy says and Alex wishes that he could feel relief, “there’s a tarp in the garage, we’ll cover your car. I’m guessing you disabled any trackers?”

“Yes,” Alex says.

Mindy nods and pulls out the tarp. Alex and Michael quickly take corners and throw it over the car. There’s no way for them to be tracked as far as Alex can tell, but the hairs on his arms are standing up anyway. The three of them are all at different points in the car when Mindy finally stops.

“So, who’s your friend?” She asks, “or boyfriend? Not assuming anything—““God forbid,” Alex mutters, “this is Michael Guerin, we went to school together,” and because neither seem to fit he figures it’s best to rip the bandaid off, “he was my prisoner, now I’m his hostage.”

“Nice to meet you,” Michael says, “do I call you Mrs—“

“Mindy’s fine,” she cuts in, taking his offered hand. She raises her eyebrows at his bruised wrists, “you’re not a very good hostage taker, he’s not even tied up.”

“It’s purely psychological,” Michael offers.

“I see,” Mindy looks at both of them, “well you’d better come inside.”

Alex doesn’t look at either of them as he walks into the house. It’s a one level house like most of them. His mother’s house has been in the family and is made better than a lot of them in the area. Just having electricity and plumbing means that they’re better off. Michael looks around the house carefully while Alex tries not to linger on anything. He just looks for the main things that he needs to know. Like where the exits are and where the weak points are. He manages to not ask if there are rooms for him and his brothers. He doesn’t want to know the answer to that.

“I imagine you two have things you need to talk about,” Mindy says.

“Yes,” Alex agrees. Michael gives him a look, “but we’ve been on the road for twelve hours. We need to take care a few things before we get down to that.”

“Yeah and I’m looking forward to showering without someone watching me,” Michael says before things can get tense, “and being the one to hold the hose.”

“I’ll get you towels,” Mindy says.

Mindy’s house isn’t big but Alex’s stomach still drops when he comes from the bathroom and into the bedroom and finds Michael is already waiting for him. They’re both dressed, only the wetness of their hair gives away that they have been in the shower. Mindy has sandwiches out for both of them. Alex eats his quickly and tries not to think about the fact that this is the first sandwich his mother’s made him since he was a very small child. The less he thinks about anything to do with her, the better. The more he’ll be able to focus on Michael and figuring out what the hell they are supposed to do.

“Your mom seems cool,” Michael says, “you showed up with a hostage/kidnapper and she let you crash here.”

“She let us crash because I told her my father’s dead,” he says.

Michael sighs and rubs a hand over his face. Alex realizes he’s about to be told something he probably doesn’t want to hear. What he knows about his father and Michael is in the files. He was monitored like all the aliens until they became more active in the past few years, when everything started going wrong. He knows there were other aliens in a different facility but when Michael attacked it, he accidentally triggered the self destruct mechanism. His father warned him that Michael had never forgiven him for killing his mother, though it was mostly his fault.

“Do any of your siblings have contact with her?” Michael asks.

“No,” Alex says.

“Are you sure?” He presses, “if they did before—all of this, they might be watching her and doing the same thing they did to you.”

“We don’t talk to her,” Alex snaps, “not all mothers are like yours.”  
Michael goes frighteningly still. Or it would be frightening if things weren’t already so far in the shithole. All the times he thought of Michael as a predator are eclipsed by the way his face shuts down. Alex doesn’t know why his mother is apparently on the table for them to have discussed but Michael’s mother is off limits. He highly doubts the explosion at Caulfield is the only truthful thing from the story he’s been told. Michael takes a deep breath like he’s got to steady himself and Alex watches as his fists uncurl. He’s seen Michael’s record and it’s always baffled him how a man with the ability to move things with his head continuously defaults to hitting things with his fist. It’s like he enjoys the pain or inflicting it on others. Which is like his father. Alex pushes the thoughts away and waits for Michael to relax fractionally before he speaks.

“We need to talk about what’s happening,” Alex says.

“Yeah,” Michael says.

He doesn’t say anything else.

“You do have a plan for how to convince me, right?” Alex asks. Michael glances away. Alex hangs his head, “You don’t, do you?”

“I’m working on it okay?” Michael snaps, “remember the part where the memory drug gives you migraines?”

“You think I can’t handle a headache?” Alex asks. Michael rolls his eyes, “you know about my leg, don’t you?”  
“I know almost everything about you, Alex,” Michael snaps and Alex wonders how something can sound so affectionate and so insulting at the same time, “that doesn’t mean I want to hurt you.”

“Well you’re going to have to do something,” Alex says, “you’re wasting whatever time you have left trying not to hurt me.”

Michael winces like Alex has said something he shouldn’t. Irrationally Alex wishes that they were back in the prison and he was ignorant. He wishes that he could attribute all of Michael’s looks and gestures and tells to something other than his words. Alex doesn’t know if he wants to protect Michael anymore than he knows if he wants to be sitting in this room in his mother’s house wondering if she ever thought of offering it to one of his siblings. Or to him. He can feel the weight of everything compounding. No matter how strong he is, he knows to be mindful of his limits when on a mission. Not to let them inform his choices but to be aware so that he doesn’t wind up in a situation he can’t get out of.

“What?” He says.   
“What do you mean—“

“Stop it. What did I say that made you look at me like that?” Alex asks directly. Michael blanches, “you can’t keep protecting me from migraines if everything else is hurting you,” he tries to soften his voice, “what did I say?”

Michael wavers for a moment and then swears and scrubs his face, like he’s trying to cleanse himself of something. Alex feels a wave of smugness at the victory, though he’s careful to keep it off his face. He needs more information and he needs it now. He’s not willing to just dismiss what Michael is implying but he’s also not willing to blindly go forward.

“We didn’t just have crushes on each other in high school,” Michael says.

Alex takes back everything he thought a moment ago about Michael possibly being right. What Michael is implying is completely ludicrous for so many reasons. Not the least of which is the boy who is standing in front of him. Michael spent most of high school living out of his truck. Alex knows there’s no way he brought him over to his house. And he sure as hell wasn’t fooling around in public with any boys. Michael looks pained and Alex realizes he’s laughing.

“You can’t be serious,” he says, “I wouldn’t have—“ he shakes his head, “my father would have killed both of us. He knew everything in that town.’

“Yeah, uh, he found us out,” Michael says, rubbing his hand like it pains him, “he tried.”

“Is that why you killed him?” Alex asks, “I thought it was because of your mother and Caulfield. Not some high school grudge—“  
“I didn’t kill him!” Michael cuts in, “believe me I wanted to for a lot of reasons. And we both know he fucking deserved it,” Alex glances away, “because no amount of drugs are gonna erase what a dick your father was,” he adds, “even your head can’t rewrite that.”

“But it can apparently rewrite you,” Alex says.

“Believe me I’m not thrilled about it either!” Michael snaps, “are you curious why I didn’t kill him?”

“Because I didn’t want him dead” Alex says. Michael looks surprise, “it fits with the narrative you’re giving this thing we supposedly had,” Alex says, “that you have no evidence for,” he adds. He frowns at Michael rubbing his hand, “did your hand get injured?”

“It’s a tic,” Michael says, “it was injured and Max fixed it,” he sighs, “your dad caught us, he messed up my hand—I know, I know you have no reason to believe me.“

Alex wishes he could make up his mind about believing him. He could say that he doesn’t, but the fact that they are sitting in his moms house with Michael telling him things that are plausible and fantastical at once says that he believes him more than he should. He can see Michael’s frustration. But more unnerving is the faith Michael has in this working. He’s quite literally bet his life on it. Alex isn’t sure he can fathom anyone but Greg maybe putting this much faith in him. It’s strange having it from someone he’s tortured and locked up.

“Did I know you were an alien?” Alex asks, “when did you tell me?”

“I didn’t,” Michael says, “you got led on some scavenger hunt by Jim Valenti. Then you showed up at my trailer and told me what you knew,” Alex raises an eyebrow, “don’t give me that look. You just did it again. You showed up in my cell and just dramatically announced you knew you had been drugged.”

“I wasn’t dramatic,” Alex objects.

“You turned out all the lights and waited for me in the dark,” Michael points out, “you may be the single most dramatic person I know.”

Alex bristles. His father would call him dramatic. Or maybe he wouldn’t, but in Alex’s head as it is he does. So dramatic, too dramatic, asking over and over why Alex couldn’t just toe the line. It’s odd how he’s swung so far in the other direction. His life is full of lines now. Carefully regulated, carefully drawn, they rule everything. And yet a voice in his head reminds him he’s just been a willing kidnap victim to an alien and he’s sitting in his mothers house, a place that is so far over the line he can’t even see it anymore.

“So how long were we together before this happened?” Alex asks, pointing to his head.

Michael cringes. It surprises Alex that they weren’t together. What Michael has done seems like a lot of trouble to go through for someone you aren’t with. It’s not friendship either. Alex knows the way that Michael looks at him isn’t how you look at a friend.

“We weren’t together,” Alex tries, “can you tell me why not?”

“I’m an idiot?” Michael offers.

“I’ve seen your records, try again.”

He scowls.

“No I am,” He says, “my brain’s the only smart part,” he gives a grin that would be knee weakening if not for the pain in his eyes, “the rest of me isn’t.”

Alex wants to ask more about the story but he’s not stupid enough to think that the answers are going to just be there. Everything Michael is saying sounds like it’s happening to someone else. It doesn’t jog any memories, it doesn’t convince him this is anything but an attempt at freedom. Finding out more about this messy part of it is something Alex knows can wait. It isn’t changing anything.

What’s changing his mind has nothing to do with what Michael is saying.

Much as he is loathe to admit it, he can’t define what he feels and the connection that seems to stretch between them. His interactions with Michael have largely been under an hour and he’s usually drugged. Spending hours upon hours with forces Alex to realize that he doesn’t feel the way he should. He feels calm. Almost at peace. Not like how he ever thought he would feel if he committed treason or betrayed the things he believed in. It doesn’t feel like a betrayal of his ideals. It feels right, except for one thing.

“I have a boyfriend,” Alex says. Michael’s mood darkens, “I’m hearing you out but I want to be very clear. I’m with someone.”

“I know,” Michael says.

“I love him,” Alex stresses, “even if there’s some truth to what you’re saying I don’t feel that way about you.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Michael says, his teeth grinding together.

Alex fight the urge to stress again that he is in love with someone else. Whatever Forrest has done, Alex knows what he feels for him. The same way Michael seems to be so sure of what he feels for Alex. It’s an odd triangle and one he doesn’t really want to be a part of. He can’t just shut his feelings off. Though the more he finds out from Michael, the more it sounds like that is something true about him no matter what memories are in his head. Alex isn’t a man who retreats but looking at the clench of Michael’s jaw and the way his hands are curled, he knows he has to put secrecy first.

“I’m going to get some air and think about what you’ve said,” he says. Michael looks at him sharply, “you’re not scared I’m going to call them?”

“No,” he says, “but a part of me wishes you would.”

Alex doesn’t have a response for that, or not one that won’t involve explaining Michael’s telekinesis to his mother, so he gets up and leaves.


	5. Music

Alex doesn’t go far. He can’t risk anyone recognizing him even though the chances of that are very slim. No-one has met him but he’s always resembled his mother more than he wishes he did. His head doesn’t clear as much as he wishes it did either. But getting away from Michael lets him look at things from at least a slight distance. It helps give him some kind of perspective.

He has to admit that he’s affected by Michael in a way that he cannot explain. He can’t fully blame his actions on that, it’s not like Michael is the drug they’ve been giving him. The things he knows about Michael are largely from his file and their brief interactions. Intelligence reports that he’s apparently seen in both of his lifetimes. What he feels for him isn’t something he knows in the same way. It’s not clear like the facts he knows.

Alex has always hated his emotions.

Music was a safe way to exorcise them, or as safe as anything could be when it came to his fathers house. In time it got replaced by the hum of computer fans and the sound of wind along a desert. That kind of music didn’t require him to be vulnerable. Not in the ways that the other kind did. Alex has always defaulted to the hard road but on this one thing he picked the easier way. Or as easy as going to war could ever be. Music got to be a far off dream then, not something he took and beat into a new shape. He’d rather it be ephemeral than warped.  
“Your mom wants me to tell you it’s dinner time,” Michael says in lieu of a hello. Alex cringes and Michael echoes the gesture, “never thought I’d say those words.”

“Did you meet her?” Alex asks.

“Not before today,” Michael says, flexing his fingers, “one of your parents was enough for me,” he adds.

“Same,” Alex agrees.

“You met my mom though,” Michael adds, catching him off guard, “you were at Caulfield. Met her along with me. You’re the one who convinced me to leave,” his eyes narrow, “you don’t seem surprised.”

“I think today has shown us that I’m willing to do some very stupid things to keep you safe,” Alex points out, “it might be the biggest point in your favor.”

Michael’s smile is bittersweet. For the first time in all of this, Alex feels genuinely bad for him. He’s still not sure aliens can be trusted or that Michael being free is the right thing to do. But to have someone you love stand there and not remember anything you’re saying must be painful. On top of everything else that Michael must be feeling about the potential of going to his death. Though nothing he’s seen from Michael speaks to a strong self preservation instinct. Michael has done more to protect Alex’s feelings than to keep himself alive.

“To be fair you always have been,” Michael admits.

“Maybe I learned that from you,” Alex offers. Michael shakes his head.

“I haven’t always done it,” Michael says, “haven’t even always tried to,” he flexes his fingers, “except if you count that stupid ‘push him away to save him’ trope.”

Alex is slowly getting a better picture of the life Michael remembers. It’s certainly more dramatic than the one he has now. The lines all seem to be more blurred. Alex doesn’t know if he would like that. It doesn’t sound like something he would want in his life, not while his father was still around. And now between Forrest and his job, it’s all regimented again. Alex can take comfort in that even if a part of him is determined to disobey some things.

“It sounds like you made me brave,” Alex comments, “or braver than I have been in a long time,” Michael shakes his head, “we’re on the reservation with my mother,” he points out dryly, “that’s something I’ve been avoiding my entire adult life.”

“Not without reason,” Michael argues. Alex raises his eyebrows, “no offense.”

“None taken,” Alex assures him.

His mother isn’t someone Alex talks about regularly. Or at all. It’s hard when you hear that a mother is supposed to protect her children and your mother decided to protect herself. Alex knows by the time he left there was no-one there to protect, but he can’t put himself in his mother’s shoes. Michael is a prisoner, he has every reason to want him locked up and he couldn’t even manage to do that properly. He can’t imagine leaving a child in the hands of a monster.

“You kinda look like you’d rather break me out of prison than go have dinner,” Michael remarks.

“I didn’t break you out, you kidnapped me,” Alex points out.

“Yeah but I couldn’t have done that if you had me doped up like usual,” Michael retorts.

“I think I liked you better like that,” Alex mutters.  
To his surprise Michael laughs loudly. It’s not even bitter. Alex doesn’t think he’d be able to laugh with the wound that fresh. He can’t reconcile his own doping with the memory drugs and he just found out about those. Michael knows Alex has been drugging him for months. Alex isn’t sure if that was his original intention when he brought Liz up to work with him, but he could have ignored it just as easily. It’s frustrating not to know what choices are his and what choices are the things that his body knows are right.

He wishes he had the trust in himself that Michael seems to have in him.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he says, “I didn’t mean to throw my relationship in your face like that—“

“It’s okay,” Michael cuts in quickly, “I get it, you’re a loyal guy and like I said, we weren’t together.”

Michael doesn’t seem to want to talk about it and Alex wants to respect that. Knowing there was something between them doesn’t change how he feels. But knowing there was such a mess between them peaks his curiosity. He doesn’t torture himself with things. Not like a decades long star crossed love affair with a high school crush who just happens to also be a species he’s dedicated his life to fighting. Like so many members of his family. It doesn’t get more Romeo and Juliet than that.

It seems odd to him that his relationship with another man seems to pain Michael more than any of the other things that have happened. Michael can laugh about being drugged or imprisoned or any number of truly awful things but there’s no humor when it comes to this. In Michael’s book this is a bigger deal than a lot of things. A more painful deal. Alex doesn’t fully know what to do with that information. The weight of it isn’t something he knows how to comprehend. He’s not the only man Forrest has dated but he knows Forrest isn’t in love with someone else.

“So when are you going to bring me back?” Michael asks.

The question catches Alex off guard. He hasn’t had it out of his mind, per se, but it’s not the thing he’s been focused on. This is another line Michael has blurred. The answer should be right now or something that conveys the seriousness of the situation. Whatever happens next will be serious, it will have consequences. Alex just has to figure out which of them he wants to deal with.

“Sorry, you’re not getting out of dinner,” he says.

“Damn,” Michael clutches his chest, “I was really hoping for the other kind of prison.”

Alex shakes his head and figures the bandaid of dinner with Mindy is best ripped off before he gets actually hungry. Thankfully his mother doesn’t ask for them to take off their shoes. That isn’t something he wants to address. They take their seats at the kitchen counter as Mindy gives them both plates of some kind of stew that makes Alex think of all the ways that there could be something in it. Then he remembers there’s a chance the man he wants to marry has been drugging him and he picks up his fork.

“You boys aren’t vegetarian are you?” she asks.

“No,” Michael answers quickly. Alex bites back the urge to say that he is just to see her reaction, “we’re not.”

“Good,” Mindy remarks, “it’s hard dating a vegetarian, don’t even get me started on a vegan.”

Alex nearly chokes.

He doesn’t know if it’s worse to hear his mother discussing her dating life or to hear her assuming that he and Michael are together. For a long time his father had him believe that being gay was a factor in driving his mother away. Alex knows that was probably bullshit but the option to ask wasn’t one he was interested in. Mindy barely seems to care that Alex may be dating a man. Michael gives his best grin again and Alex wonders if he’s ever actually met a partner’s parents.

“Definitely not the hardest thing,” Michael says.

“Well not in your case,” Mindy replies.

Even Michael looks surprised at the way she says it so casually.

“You know I wondered where Alex got his sense of humor,” Michael says, switching the topic with more skill than Alex would have given him credit for.

“You’re a charmer,” Mindy remarks dryly.

“It’s a life skill,” Michael says without missing a beat, “you remember how people in Roswell are.”

Mindy looks at him hard for a moment and then nods slowly. Michael’s smile doesn’t slip but Alex watches recognition come across his mother’s face. He’s surprised how annoyed he feels. Annoyed and jealous. It’s not fair that his mother gets a chance to recognize Michael and he doesn’t. If Michael is concerned about the look on his mother’s face, it doesn’t show on his.

“You’re that boy, the one the Evans’ left behind,” she says. “Guilty as charged,” Michael says. Alex recognizes the look in his eyes and knows he should stop him but he winds up taking another mouthful of stew instead, “Alex and I grew up together so if you need any embarrassing high school stories I’m your guy.”

It’s a jab and an offer all in one. Alex can’t say he fully expected Michael to be the one taking the heat off him in the middle of his mother’s kitchen, but he can’t say he’s fully surprised either. Mindy’s eyes narrow fractionally before her face smoothes out but the give away is there all the same. Alex is surprised how pleased he is. He knows he should feel bad but he lets himself enjoy it.

“How about we save the embarrassing stories for another time,” Alex says finally, “on both your ends.”

Michael sighs dramatically like that was something he was looking forward to. Mindy gives a ghost of a smile and then turns back to the stove. Alex looks over at him surprised at the appreciation that he feels for the alien. He never really thought about bringing a guy home. Definitely not to this house. Of his brothers the only one that made any effort to make Forrest feel welcome was Greg. He never expect either of his parents to try and do the same thing.

“We’ll do the dishes,” Michael volunteers when they’re done.

“You will?” Mindy asks.

“Yes,” Alex says.

They get over to the sink and with a bit of shuffling, Alex winds up scrubbing the dishes and Michael winds up drying. It’s a lot nicer than Alex thought it would be, standing in front of the sink scrubbing. It’s a nice night out. Alex can’t remember the last time he had a nice night like this, he can’t imagine the way that Michael must feel.

“Did you think you’d be out here doing chores?” Alex asks.

“You know, dishes isn’t how I saw it going,” Michael remarks, “but I’ve learned to roll with where life takes me.”

“You don’t seem like the type,” Alex points out, “to just roll with where life takes you,” he clarifies.

“Survival skill,” Michael says with a wink.

Much to his embarrassment, Alex feels heat creep up his neck. He is an almost engaged man and he finds himself blushing at another man winking at him. It’s not that simple, it’s not that cut and dry, but the reaction catches him off guard. Michael clears his throat and quickly turns to drying the dishes as Alex tries to calm his rapid pulse. He is trying to clear his head, not wind up more confused.

“I’m guessing you all never found the cure to the memory thing,” he says.

“You know I was just waiting for you to ask,” Michael begins. Alex raises his eyebrows and Michael holds his gaze with a completely straight face, “no of course not.”

“I can’t believe you call me the dramatic one,” Alex says.   
“You are,” Michael retorts.

Alex shakes his head and turns back to the dishes. Michael continues to dry. It takes a bit longer but they get it done. He almost asks if they did this before, or if the dramatics that kept them apart took things like this from them as well. He finds himself lingering in the kitchen with Michael as he finishes drying, even though logically he knows he should be going to talk to his mother or giving Michael space. But the entire time Michael doesn’t move away from him. If he didn’t know better he would say Michael is just used to him being his captor but there’s nothing tense about him. In an odd way it seems like Michael wants to be by him.

“Thanks for helping,” Alex says.

“I wasn’t gonna leave you to do it on your own,” Michael says.

“You could have,” Alex says.  
“I don’t mind doing dishes,” Michael says, “I used to be a dishwasher, remember?”

Alex frowns and then realizes that Michael is right. He does remember Michael being a dishwasher at the Crashdown Cafe. He remembers him smelling like dishwashing fluid and his curls pinned back by his hat. It’s not something that Alex thinks about, but he doesn’t usually think about high school. The memories aren’t the clearest but that’s always something he’s attributed to not always wanting to think about high school. Michael looks almost heartbreaking hopeful and though Alex knows it would probably be kinder to tell him he doesn’t, he winds up nodding all the same.

“You used to complain about the steam and your curls,” he says.

“I knew you’d remember my hair,” Michael says.

Alex rolls his eyes and tries not to think about how warm his face is. Michael’s hair is unforgettable and Alex would be lying if he hadn’t spent a fair share of free periods thinking about what it would feel like to run his fingers though it. Or if that was even possible. Not a lot about Michael’s appearance has changed. Not the way that Alex knows his own has.

“Apparently your hair is the thing the drugs are powerless against,” Alex remarks.

“I knew my hair had superpowers.”

Alex turns off the faucet which he’s been using for noise cover before he can point out that Michael can move things with his mind. His hair doesn’t need to have superpowers because he literally does. But they’ve risked enough by speaking about whatever’s being done to him, they don’t need to risk his mother finding out that Michael is an alien.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that right?” Alex says. Michael shrugs, “did I fall for this before?” Michael gives him a look, “of course I did.”

“To be fair you were pretty charming yourself.”“No I’m not,” Alex says.

“Okay, maybe not,” Michael agrees, “but I’m charming enough for two people so—“

“You’re lucky the sink is drained,” Alex informs him dryly.

That night as he lays in bed, Alex thinks about how much harder this is than he thought it would be. And he did think it would be hard. But he didn’t think it would be so clearly his head against his heart. His head still tells him everything logical. That Michael is an alien, he has a vested interest in wanting revenge and/or his freedom, that he can concoct this fantastical story on the breadcrumbs that have been given to him. He has every reason to lie and he’s clearly good enough to have made it most of his life pretending to be an entirely different species.

But his heart betrays him.

Or maybe it’s his head that’s doing the betraying.

Alex has always trusted his head over his heart. His life is built around it. But he can also admit that trusting his heart has saved his life and 3/4 of his limbs. He doesn’t ignore things that work for him. But if he trusts his heart, he has to admit that the situation is more complicated than he wishes and there’s a good chance that Michael is on his side.

Alex just doesn’t know if he is on Michael’s.


	6. Time Served

“So, do you want my help?” Michael asks. 

Alex bites back the urge to just say no. Which makes the most logical sense. He doesn’t need more confusion in this decision. He wishes that he could just make things clear, that he could feel completely on one side and not torn between them. He shouldn’t feel torn either, one side has everyone he’s cared about and the other has someone he hasn’t seen since high school. 

“How would you help?” Alex asks, looking up at the ceiling. Michael blows out a breath, “you’ve got a clear side.”

“If I did I’d have drugged you and been long gone,” Michael says.

“You wouldn’t do that,” Alex retorts. He glances over and Michael meets his eyes. There’s too much truth in them and he focuses upwards, “that doesn’t mean you don’t have a side in this.”

The words hang heavy and he wonders how often they’ve had this argument. From everything that Michael’s told him and Michael’s lack of immediate response, Alex gets the feeling this isn’t the first time. That makes sense, giving all the moving parts. But Michael seems to know where he stands a lot clearer than Alex does. Even though every bit of logic and all the broken pieces keep saying that Michael would be more than right to put all of this behind him. Alex doesn’t know why it’s equally confusing and aggravating that he won’t. 

“It kind of sounds like you trust me,” Michael points out after a moment.

“I trust your pattern of behavior,” Alex corrects.

“And what’s that?” Michael asks. Alex hesitates, “come on, whatever you tell me isn’t gonna matter if you wind up turning me in. We both know that.”

“You’re protecting me because of our past,” Alex says, “you were trying to do it in the prison as well. You think that I’m going to remember everything,” he bites back the urge to curse, “and that’s why you won’t leave. You’re hoping that I’ll come back, remember you and we can be together.”

Michael lets out a soft mockery of a laugh. Alex hears him roll over but he doesn’t look at him. He can’t. He’s been the one compiling reports on Michael’s behavior because he’s the one person Michael won’t shut down completely around. He’s made note of Michael’s reluctance to hurt him but away from everything, he can see how much his reports have been missing. He’s never enjoyed the moments when he realizes he’s been lying to himself. 

“I’m hoping you remember but you and me being together isn’t—“ Michael sighs, “look it’s not that simple okay? We weren’t together for a lot of reasons.”

“That sounds complicated,” Alex says.

“No shit,” Michael mutters.

“No,” Alex says pushing himself up finally, “you don’t get it. I don’t do that. I’m not complicated. Not like that,” he says. Michael looks at him, “I’ve only dated my boyfriend—“ he shakes his head, “you know just saying that word used to make me sweat.”

“I know,” Michael says.

“So it’s really hard to believe that I would have some forbidden romance with an alien under my dad’s nose,” he points out. 

Michael sighs and if Alex had any doubt that Michael knew him, the frustrated resignation on his face erases it. Apparently the person he was and the person he is have that love of simplicity in common. He’s pieced together that it’s been an issue in whatever has been happening between them and he isn’t surprised. Forrest has always been respectable, his father was never going to be on board but ‘he like to sleep with men’ is about the only argument he could make. Michael has a lot going against him that has nothing to do with who he has sex with. Alex can’t wrap his head around it, even if his heart thrills at it. 

“So why are you still here?” Michael asks, “if it’s so impossible, why are you still here?” Alex looks away, “Why are you still here, Alex?” 

“You know why!” Alex snaps. 

He knows better than to get up like he does. He can’t remember the last time someone got under his skin like the alien. The need for space is like a living thing in his chest and it overwhelms the logic that there are steps he needs to take before that luxury becomes a reality. The change in balance is nauseating. 

It’s instinct that makes him grip Michael’s forearm.

The bed is right there but it’s his first instinct to steady himself when Michael leaps forward to make sure they don’t add his broken nose to the growing list of injuries. Michael braces his weight and helps him shift back to sitting on the bed. He doesn’t hover over him, like he knows Alex can’t take the difference in height at the moment. He steps back instead. His movements are easy, like they’ve done this before. The frustration Alex feels at the not knowing, at the being helpless, reaches a boil. 

“Two days ago I was putting a feeding tube down your throat,” Alex reminds him. Michael’s jaw tightens, “I don’t need my memories to know I hurt you.”

“Yeah, fine. You hurt me and I hurt you—“

“You didn’t hurt me like that,” Alex says, “don’t compare it.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Michael says. 

“How could it possibly not matter?” Alex demands, “even if I got my memories back, me torturing you isn’t going to go away.” 

“You think I don’t know that?” Michael asks, his voice low. If Alex didn’t trust him, he could be frightened of it, “that’s what we do to each other, Alex. That’s why we weren’t together.” 

It cuts through him in a way that he isn’t expecting. Alex has suffered through being emotionally and physically tortured, it’s a necessary part of his job now but it isn’t one he relishes. The idea of doing it to someone he cares about the way that it seems he cared about Michael makes him ache. It makes him feel ashamed. He takes in the shift on Michael’s face. He looks tired, more tired than Alex has seen him since they decided he needed to be awake more and dialed back on the sedatives. The idea that someone Michael cared about, enough to do everything that he’s done, would put that look on his face makes Alex feel ashamed. 

He’s felt a lot of different ways about this person Michael tells him about. This man that he was. That he would presumably be again if a switch flipped and he got his memories back. Alex is used to hearing people glorify those who might not deserve it. He remembers all too well how his father’s funeral went. All the glories, all the colored truths. He remembers shaking hands and wondering how people were able to talk so positively when half of them had walked out of his father’s life for understandable reasons. Michael may have loved this other version of him, but Alex knows that doesn’t automatically mean anything good. 

“How?” Michael looks surprised at the question, “how did we torture each other?” 

“That’s—“

“Michael, please.”

It’s a cheap shot but the effect is immediate. Michael softens, like he’s touch starved for hearing his name on Alex’s lips. Alex makes himself look at his face, he knows he needs as many clues as he can take from what Michael is going to say. Michael’s body language, his expression, all of it gives away as much as his words do. Alex needs all the information he can get.

“We hooked up in high school,” Michael starts, “your dad caught us in that shed, he fucked my hand up when I wouldn’t let him get to you. I started drinking and you tried to help me but it got bad. So you left to go to the Air Force and I stayed in Roswell,” he cracks his knuckles, “you came back and there was some hooking up but your dad was breathing down your neck. You were trying to keep me safe from your dad and kept telling me to go away. Eventually I did and then you changed your mind, but I started dating Maria. We got into it when you thought your dad had changed. But you got kidnapped. Then you started dating Forrest—“

“I was dating him? Before?” Alex cuts in. 

Michael looks at him silently and slowly nods. 

It’s laughably easy to compartmentalize, it’s something he’s been doing since he was a kid. The Michael mess has it’s own box. Or boxes if he’s being honest. It seems like that would be the most pressing issue. But Forrest being someone who knew him before rocks him. He has to force himself not to shove that into its own box. He hears the crack of michael’s knuckles again. It’s only one hand, the other must be the one his father cracked with the hammer.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was there before?” He asks finally. 

“You love him,” Michael says in a way that makes it sound impossibly simple.

“That’s enough?” Alex asks. Michael looks down at his feet, “you have a really twisted view of love,” Alex says finally.

“Childhood abandonment issues,” Michael dismisses.

It seems strange to hear since Michael’s siblings were very willing to stay with him in a literal alien prison. Since he’s still sitting here with him, when he should be at home with his boyfriend and his siblings. But maybe his magnetism is helped by knowing Michael’s criteria for abandoning anyone in any real way are impossibly high. It’s hard not to feel safe when you know you can trust him. Alex can see how Michael’s abandonment issues and his own inability to trust when someone loves him would be problematic for their would be relationship, even before adding all the other stuff. 

“Alex?” Michael prods.

“I believe you,” he says finally, “what you’re saying, I believe you.” 

Michael exhales and seems to fold in on himself with relief. It surprises Alex how relieved he feels in return. He’s always noted other people’s emotions but he’s long since learned how to not be affected by them. Not like this. It’s almost on his lips to say that he doesn’t feel the same way still, that this story is still a story and not a memory but he realizes that he doesn’t need to say it. Michael knows that. Instead he just lets the relief settle over them both.

“What do we do?” Michael asks, “we can’t stay here forever or you might start taking those pills again.”

Alex smiles weakly, the idea of staying with his mother makes him feel sick. He doesn’t like her but using her as a hideout brings him far too close to his father for his comfort. He doesn’t remember being the kind of person who would leave. In his head when he left Roswell there was no-one to stay for. He doesn’t know how his other self could do that to Michael. He may believe him, but Alex knows that if they start running now it’s not going to end well. It’s not going to last long.

“You should take the car and go,” he says, “get as far away as you can and keep running until it’s safe,” he pushes on, “I’ll go back and figure out how to fix this,” he looks over to see the disgust on Michael’s face, “whatever I feel for you, it isn’t what you feel for me,” Alex says, “if you keep running you give me—this me, the person I am right now—you give me a chance to make this right.” 

“You’ll be a traitor,” Michael says.

“No I won’t,” Alex tells him.

“I don’t mean really,” Michael says, “I mean in their eyes—“ he shudders, showing for the first time any kind of effect he was had on him, “they’re going to make you talk.”

Alex cracks a smile though they both know Michael is right. They will and it won’t be pleasant. Alex wants to believe that Forrest will intervene but he can’t say for sure. Alex is good under pressure, but that’s the thing about torture. Everyone has a breaking point. Everyone has that thing that makes them snap. His just happens to be painted in neon bright letters with fireworks going off around it. 

“You should run with me,” Michael says.

“That’s not an option,” Alex refutes, “and they have my brothers.”

He doesn’t blame it all on that, he can’t. Michael knows it too. He looks at Alex helplessly and Alex knows that the next things he is going to say will either cement them being on the same side or destroy it. 

“I’ll take the drugs,” he says, “I’ll wipe this from my mind so they won’t know,” he looks at Michael, “you can kickstart my memories again.”

“How?”

“If you put the handprint on me—“ he stops as Michael laughs, “do you have a better idea?”

Michael sits there and laughs and shakes his head like Alex has said something funny. If he has a better idea he doesn’t say so which is unfortunate. Alex knows his plan is good, he knows it will work but he can’t say he’s looking forward to doing it. It’s a Hail Mary if there ever was one. 

“If they see the handprint they’ll figure it out,” he says. 

“No they won’t,” Alex says, “they’ll assume it’s just from you,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “you could hide it on my scalp.”

“We aren’t having this conversation,” Michael says. 

“Do you have a better idea?” Alex questions as Michael gets up and moves towards the door, “don’t just walk away—“

“You don’t get to tell me not to walk away, Alex,” Michael snaps.

“I’m not telling you, I’m asking you,” he replies. 

Michael’s fist curls and he presses it against the doorframe. He turns around and looks back over at him. It doesn’t take much to know that this isn’t the first time they’ve been here. Knowing what he knows, Alex is aware of how this will end. When Michael looks at him, it seems he is too. There may be things about his previous self that Alex didn’t understand, but the stubbornness seems to be something they have in common. 

“After all of this you’re just going to go back?” Michael questions. 

“If you have another plan I’m all ears.” 

“Bullshit,” Michael says. Alex glances away, “you believe me so why? Why make us do this again?”

“Because I can’t run away with you,” Alex says, “and I can’t bring you back there. This is the only way. You convinced me once, you can convince me again. Being connected will kick start it, I’ll figure the rest out.” 

It’s bravado and Michael knows that. But there isn’t another plan. There isn’t another way. Not that he can see. This keeps everyone safe and at the moment that’s the most important thing. No matter how much Michael doesn’t want to do it. No matter how much he doesn’t want to do it. This is what needs to be done. 

“Why would I help you do that?” Michael demands, “I could knock you out right now and keep you out until we’re far as hell from here.”

“You could but I’d come back,” Alex says.

“Right, of course you would,” Michael says.

“I came back to Roswell,” he points out.

“You came back because of what happened to your leg, you didn’t come back for anyone,” Michael snaps. 

“You don’t know that,” Alex says, “you don’t know if I wanted to—neither of us does. Because I don’t remember. I may never remember. But if I go back, i can make sure no-one else gets hurt.” Michael swears and looks like he wants to run out the door again, “I need you to trust me.”

‘Don’t—“

“I know you do, I need you to keep trusting me,” Alex says, “like I’m going to trust you. 

He knows what he’s asking is a lot but he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t quantify it. For a moment they can trust each other before he once again pushes it to the brink. Or maybe this time it breaks. Alex doesn’t want to risk it but he knows there’s no choice. Not really. It’s not even him that he truly needs Michael to trust or that he needs to put his faith in. 

“I need you to trust whatever ‘us’ is,” he says. 

Michael looks away like he’s been struck. 

“I hate you,” Michael mutters.

“I know.” 

Michael opens and closes his mouth. Alex has to fight not to ask what he’s trying to say. What he’s trying to retaliate. It occurs to him that if this works and he forgets, he’s not even sure if he’ll miss Michael. Or if Michael will just go back to being some old crush he had in high school. It’s odd because in this moment, sitting on the bed, when he looks up at Michael he finds that the prospect of what he’s suggesting makes him miss him already. 

Michael comes over to the bed and sits down. Alex feels his mouth go dry, even though there’s no reason for it. This isn’t the closest they’ve been. And he knows a lot about Michael’s anatomy. But this is the first time where it hasn’t been for science or torture, where there’s nothing so elaborate and it’s just them. When Michael reaches up he shies back. Frustration crosses Michael’s features.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I’m not scared of you hurting me,” Alex says, “can you just—give me a minute?” 

Michael holds up his hands and drops them back to his side. He fidgets, because Michael’s two speeds seem to be old beyond his years and actual child. Alex fights against the wave of longing that aches through him before he gives up fighting it. It’s not like he’s going to remember wanting Michael for a while and even if he does, it’s not like there’s anything he’ll be able to do about it. For the first time he finds himself jealous of the man he used to be, who had made his peace with who he was. Who could act on his feelings, even if he did it in the wrong way. 

“If I say I’ll miss you, does that make this harder?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Michael says.

“Sorry,” Alex apologizes.

  
“Don’t be,” Michael says. After a beat he adds, “I’ll miss you too.” 

Alex knows that this will just be torture if they sit here and say the things they can’t to each other. He can’t make it harder than it needs to be. Finally he nods towards Michael and ducks his head. He’s very aware of how warm and calloused Michael’s hands are as he pushes his finger through his scalp. There’s an odd feeling, one he isn’t sure he has the words for. He’s not sure there are words for it at all. Emotion floods him but he’s able to feel what is and isn’t his own. He knew Michael loved him, but he’s not prepared for the feeling Michael gets when he looks at him. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again. Michael shakes his head and claps him on the shoulder. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. 

“No, really—“

“Alex,” he cuts in, looking at him carefully, “don’t make this harder than it has to be.” 

Alex nods. 

“You should get out of here,” he says. 

“Yeah,” Michael agrees, pulling on his jacket, “at least this time we get to say a proper goodbye.” 

Alex would ask why that was a big deal but he feels the ache though their bond. That’s not an ache he ever wants to be responsible for again. 

“Goodbye,” Alex says. Michael cracks a bittersweet grin. 

“See you later,” he says and tips an imaginary hat. 

And then he’s gone.


	7. Free Choice

The fan is annoying. 

Alex frowns and wishes that it was quiet. The buzz is driving him mad. It seems irrational that he’s annoyed at something like a fan, but it’s been a long few days. It’s his own fault for putting himself in that position, even if he had no idea Michael was able to wipe minds like that. 

“Docs say mom’s going to be fine,” Flint tells him, “no memories of any of this. She knew dad was dead, but she had them tell her again to ‘relive the moment’.”

“Lucky,” Alex mutters.

“Shit, don’t tell me you have lice,” Flint says. Alex raises his eyebrows, “you’ve been scratching your head. Come on, I don’t want to shave my head again.”

“No-one’s shaving their heads,” Alex says. 

“You’re doing it again,” Flint tells him. 

Alex rolls his eyes and gets up. His hand is in his hair but his scalp isn’t itchy. He makes his way into the bathroom to see what Flint’s going on about. Leaning into the mirror, he parts his hair and looks to see if he can spot any of the white dots. 

Instead he sees something glimmering. 

Alex pushes his hair aside and looks into the mirror. It’s faint, but there’s a glowing patch on his scalp. Panic swamps him. It doesn’t take a genius to know that Michael put it there. What he’s not expecting is for the panic to be met with a wave of calm. It’s purposeful and directed at him. Alex has to fight the urge to swear. An alien kidnapped him and now is trying to calm him down. He has to report it. But first he has to get himself under control. 

A wave of pain hits him when he reaches for the pill bottle. 

He watches as the pills go down the sink, he could have sworn the lid was on tighter. He feels a wave of frustration hit him. He knows that he should prioritize, but the idea of going back into the interrogation room makes his stomach twist. Instead he finds himself reaching for his phone and punching in the number of his pharmacist. 

“I need an emergency refill,” he says. 

“I’m so sorry,” the voice on the other end of the line says, “there was an accident on the highway—our delivery has been delayed.” 

Alex doesn’t know why that fills him with relief. 

But as he hangs up he realizes he’s interested in finding out. 

And for the first time since he got back, he feels the beginnings of hope.


End file.
